


the river's running course

by carolinecrane



Series: down is where we came from [42]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course his father gives Carole a digital camera for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the river's running course

Of _course_ his father gives Carole a digital camera for Christmas.

Kurt’s just grateful he took the time to shower instead of stumbling into the kitchen with sex hair and wearing one of Puck’s old t-shirts the way he would have done at home. _Puck_ would have enjoyed photographic evidence of their morning in Kurt’s old bed, but as far as Kurt’s concerned, he dodged a fairly large bullet when he chose propriety over comfort.

Well. He chose to shower mostly to give himself a little time to process the fact that not only is Puck already planning their honeymoon, but he’s been planning a _family_.

It’s not that Kurt hasn’t thought about what their future might be like. It’s just that when he does, he’s usually a fabulously successful, jetsetting fashion designer, and when he’s not busy with his music, Puck’s flying to Paris or Milan or Tokyo with him. And okay, maybe that makes Puck sort of a trophy husband, but it’s not like he’ll _mind_ or anything. He asked Kurt to be his sugar daddy on their first date, after all, so Kurt’s only living up to his end of the bargain.

Except that Puck seems to have other plans, and Kurt’s pretty sure famous fashion designers don’t pack up the husband and the diaper bag and the _kids_ to fly off to fashion week in Milan.

For a few wild seconds he wonders what would happen if he put his foot down. If he told Puck that children weren’t part of his plan for the future, and if that’s what Puck wants, he’s going to have to find someone else to do it with. Except he’s fairly sure that Puck would say okay, that if Kurt doesn’t want kids they don’t have to have them. Maybe he wouldn’t even mind for awhile, but he’d probably tell himself that Kurt would come around eventually, and when Kurt didn’t he’d start to resent it.

By the time his imagination gets him as far as bitter accusations across a lawyer’s table and angry words they can’t take back, Kurt’s shaking hard enough to need to lean against the shower wall for a moment. And he knows he’s being ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen to them. If that means adjusting his vision for the future a little...well, he’s been doing quite a bit of that lately anyway.

It’s during his moisturizing routine that he remembers that being a famous fashion designer means they’ll be able to afford the best nanny money can buy. After that his heart rate slows down a little, and by the time he’s dressed and ready to head upstairs he doesn’t completely hate the idea. Puck will make an amazing parent, after all, and if Kurt’s not that good at it, at least he’ll be there to pick up the slack.

He finds Puck in the kitchen, fussing with the coffee maker. He looks up when Kurt walks in, grinning and reaching for a clean mug to pour Kurt a cup of coffee. Kurt crosses the room in a few strides and takes the mug, then he sets it down on the counter and pulls Puck’s arms around him.

“I think we should go with Hummel-Puckerman.”

“Yeah?” Puck says, raising one eyebrow in an expression that says he’s pleased, but he doesn’t want to show it in case Kurt’s just humoring him.

Kurt nods and leans forward to press a firm kiss on his lips. “Definitely.”

The smile it gets him is worth the spur of the moment decision. Anyway, Puck’s right: Hummel-Puckerman _does_ sound better than Puckerman-Hummel. More rhythmic, maybe, and Puck’s the songwriter, so it’s not surprising that he’d notice.

“Whatever you want, babe,” Puck says. “You’re the one with the big career plans.”

He wants Kurt to believe he doesn’t really care, but his grin tells a completely different story. Before Kurt can call him on it he’s leaning in to plant another kiss on Kurt, longer this time and a lot more thorough, and if they weren’t making major life decisions here Kurt would complain about Puck shoving his tongue down Kurt’s throat in his dad’s kitchen.

But this has been the single weirdest two weeks of his entire life, and he doesn’t have the energy left to keep up appearances. Besides, they’re engaged now, so his father’s probably going to have to get used to seeing displays of affection from time to time.

When Puck pulls back to look at him he’s still wearing that pleased smile, and it’s ridiculous, considering how much they’ve been through, but Kurt’s heart still skips a beat. “You need any help with breakfast?”

Kurt shakes his head and sighs and lets go of Puck to turn the oven on. “No. I did most of the work yesterday while you were at your mother’s house. It just has to cook now.”

Puck leans against the counter and watches while Kurt pulls the strata he prepared the day before out of the fridge, and when the oven beeps he slides it onto the middle rack and sets the timer. His favorite recipe isn’t even close to kosher, but Puck’s mother and sister won’t be over for breakfast, and Puck’s never cared, so Kurt doesn’t bother substituting turkey sausage for his usual Chorizo. It’s not exactly heart healthy, but considering the chaos his father’s put up with since the whole engagement misunderstanding, Kurt decides to let Burt indulge, just this once.

Not that he has much control over his father’s diet anymore, but Carole’s been doing a good job keeping his dad on track, from what Kurt can tell. It’s been years since his heart attack and he hasn’t had any more trouble since, at any rate, so Kurt tries not to worry when he’s all the way on the other side of the country where he can’t do anything about it anyway.

The kitchen door opens as Kurt’s setting the timer, and he looks up in time to watch his father walk into the room. Burt nods a good morning at both of them and heads straight for the coffee pot, and Kurt picks up his own mug and glances at the empty sink, wishing there were some dishes or something to deal with, just to give him something to do.

As soon as he thinks it a pair of warm, familiar hands land on his shoulders, then Puck’s leaning in to talk low in his ear so Burt won’t hear him. “You gotta learn to chill, babe. Just come take a load off for awhile.”

Kurt lets Puck steer him to the kitchen table and push him into a chair, then he squeezes Kurt’s shoulders one last time and sits down in the chair next to him. And the thing is, it’s easy to relax when it’s just the two of them, but when it’s the two of them and Kurt’s entire family, he isn’t sure how to be the person Puck loves _and_ the one his family loves. He’s not sure when Puck learned him well enough to tell that, but it’s just another indication that there really isn’t any point in them wasting all kinds of time learning things they already know before they start planning their future.

A third chair scrapes across the linoleum as his father takes a seat at the table, setting the Rudolph mug on the table in front of him and glancing first at Kurt, then Puck. “Where’s Finn?”

“He’s...uh...”

“He went to Schue’s,” Puck says, and when Kurt shoots him a look he just shrugs. “What, babe? It’s not like Mrs. H doesn't know already.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Kurt says, turning back to his father and he is definitely not blushing over the fact that Finn’s kind of a slut. And it’s not that he thinks his father will mind, it’s just that now they’re all sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and thinking about Finn’s sex life.

“Oh.” Burt lifts the Rudolph mug and holds it in front of him for a second, and Kurt’s struck by just how ridiculous that stupid mug really is. “You boys sleep okay?”

And if he didn’t know better Kurt would suspect his father of trying to make him blush on purpose, but he knows from long experience just how comfortable with the subject of _Kurt’s_ sex life Burt isn’t. So he clears his throat and doesn’t look at Puck before he says, “Fine, thank you. Where’s Carole?”

“She came to bed pretty late, figured I’d let her sleep in a little,” Burt answers.

Kurt picks up his coffee and takes a sip, letting the silence fill the room until it starts to stretch into awkward territory. He’s searching his sleep-deprived brain for something to say that won’t make anybody think of sex when he hears the distinct sound of a six-cylinder engine pulling into the driveway. Finn’s truck, Kurt assumes, glancing at the clock on the stove as Puck pushes his chair back and stands up.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he says, pushing open the kitchen door and disappearing before Kurt can ask where he’s going. Not that he needs to; he has no idea what Puck wants to talk to Finn about, but he assumes it has something to do with Puck’s late-night conversation with Carole.

When he’s gone Kurt glances at his father, part of him expecting Burt to be shifting uncomfortably and staring at his coffee like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen all week. Instead he finds his father looking right back at him, tired and maybe a little worried, but mostly he just looks so _familiar_ that Kurt’s heart clenches hard at the thought of getting on a plane tomorrow.

“So everything’s really okay with you two?”

“Yes,” Kurt answers, and when he smiles his father smiles back at him. “Noah’s...I really love him, Dad.”

“Yeah, I got that impression when you got engaged.”

Kurt laughs and twists the ring on his finger, looking down at it for a few seconds before he looks up at his father again. “He wants to have a family.”

Burt’s eyebrows go up, but that’s the only sign that he’s anything like surprised. And really, it’s not much of a surprise to anyone who knows Puck, but the part where he thinks it’s a good idea to have a family with _Kurt_ is a bit of a shock.

“That’s a big step. You’re pretty young even to be getting married, son.”

“We’re not planning on running out and getting a kid as soon as we get back to L.A.,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes mostly so he won’t have to think about the fact that he’s not even sure how that works, exactly. He knows how Brangelina did it, of course, but they’ve got a lot more money than Kurt and Puck, and regardless of Puck’s faith in his future as a famous fashion designer, Kurt knows the realities of the industry.

“It’s just...I never really planned on the whole marriage and kids thing. What if I’m terrible at it?”

“Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing when they have kids,” Burt says from behind the Rudolph mug. “Was I terrified when your mom told me she was pregnant? Damn right I was. But we figured it out.”

“But what if we don’t? We could end up scarring some poor child for life.”

Burt laughs and reaches over to grip Kurt’s shoulder, squeezing before he lets go again. “Trust me, son, the fact that you’re worrying about messing up means you’ll do just fine. Besides, Puck’s good people. And he already knows what it feels like to lose a kid, which puts him ahead of the game.”

Kurt’s never really thought about it that way before. Mostly because he hasn’t thought about raising kids at all, let alone with Puck. But his father’s got a point; giving up Beth and living with that decision means he’s spent years already feeling like a parent, only he’s never had any say in his daughter’s life. That has to be as frustrating as it is heartbreaking, and it means he’s not going to go into parenthood lightly, no matter how much he wants Kurt to think he hasn’t really thought any of this through.

The thought should make him feel better, but the truth is that he’s even more terrified when he stops to think about just how _sure_ Puck is about them. It must show in his expression, because his father reaches over again and pats his hand this time.

“You’re going to be fine, Kurt. Truth is, I worry more about Finn than I do about you these days.”

“Oh?” Kurt says, and it’s not like he has to _ask_ or anything, but listening to his father talk about Finn is preferable to having another panic attack about just how thoroughly Puck’s already planned their future.

Burt shrugs and drains his coffee cup before he sets it on the table. “I kinda saw this whole thing with Schuester coming. I mean, I knew the signs from watching you grow up, and when he started talking about helping fix up that car of Schuester’s, it was pretty obvious why he was doing it. It’s not that I have anything against the guy personally, but he’s a lot older than you boys, and this isn’t exactly L.A., you know?”

Kurt nods, because yes, he knows. Boy, does he ever know, and that’s the whole reason he left Lima and didn’t look back. But Puck’s been fairly open with his affection the whole time they’ve been in town, and no one’s so much as looked at them sideways, as far as Kurt’s noticed. Then there’s the apparently booming gay engagement ring industry in town; Puck might have been exaggerating a little, but the fact remains that he managed to find a pair of matching engagement rings that were clearly designed for a gay couple, and he didn’t even have to look hard.

That coupled with the rabbi’s refreshingly tolerant attitude, and Kurt has to admit that things have changed around here, at least a little. They still can’t get married legally in the state of Ohio, but at least he doesn’t have to lie awake nights worrying that Finn’s going to get himself gay-bashed into the hospital or something just for being dumb and romantic enough to fall for a great voice and a pair of big blue eyes.

“He’ll be okay, Dad,” Kurt says, and this time he’s the one who reaches out to pat Burt’s hand. “Finn’s naive, certainly, but he’s going into this thing with both eyes open. And Puck says Will’s been in love with him for ages; much as I hate to admit it, I can’t say he’s wrong.”

Burt huffs a noncommittal response that means he either doesn’t believe Kurt, or he doesn’t really want to have this conversation in the first place. Not that Kurt can blame him; discussing Finn’s love life with his father isn’t exactly high on his own list of acceptable breakfast topics. Besides, there’s nothing either of them can do to make sure Finn doesn’t get hurt; they just have to let him make his own mistakes the same way Kurt did.

If a tiny part of Kurt is hoping that Finn and Will find a way to make it work, well, no one needs to know.

“You are planning to look over that car of Will’s before they go driving around in it, right? It’s not like Finn knows what he’s _doing_.”

Burt shrugs and stands up, picking up the Rudolph mug and heading for the coffee maker.

“I don’t know; Finn’s a pretty fast learner. He replaced the timing chain by himself, and it straightened out Schuester’s acceleration problem. That was a good call, son,” he adds, and when he grins at Kurt, Kurt doesn’t try to fight his own smile.

“Well sure, beginner’s luck is on his side for now, but what happens when it runs out?”

The front door opens and then closes again before Burt answers, and a second later the kitchen door swings open and Puck walks back in. Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, but Puck just shivers and drops into his chair. “It’s freezing out there.”

“That’s why they invented coats,” Kurt says, but he stands up and heads for the coffee pot to fix Puck another cup. He pours the last of the coffee into a clean mug and adds a little sugar, then he heads back to the table and sets it down. “Drink this, it’ll warm you up.”

Puck grins up at him like he’s thinking about suggesting another way Kurt could help him warm up, regardless of the fact that Kurt’s _father_ is sitting right across the table. But he doesn’t; instead he catches Kurt’s hand and pulls him close, brushing a kiss across his knuckles before he lets go again.

“Thanks, babe.”

Kurt blushes and tells himself all over again that his father’s going to have to get used to seeing that sort of thing every now and then, but he’s still grateful when the timer buzzes to let him know breakfast is ready.

“Drink your coffee,” he tells Puck, then he finds Carole’s pot holders and turns his attention to fixing breakfast for his family.

~

Once everyone’s fed and caffeinated, Carole herds them all into the living room to unwrap gifts. The tree isn’t nearly as laden as it was when Kurt still lived at home; he and Finn both lost parents early in life, which means they both benefited from surviving parent guilt, which generally translated to way more presents than either of them needed at Christmas.

Now that they’re both in school and Burt’s helping them with tuition and -- in Kurt’s case, at least until he finishes his internship -- living expenses, there’s not as much money to put toward gifts. Not that Kurt wants anything he doesn’t already have. He runs his thumb along his ring and lets Puck pull him down onto the couch, and when Puck slides an arm around him Kurt settles into his side and reaches up to thread his fingers through the ones resting on his shoulder.

“Honey,” Carole says, pulling a box out from under the tree and handing it to Finn, “this is from Burt and me.”

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything,” Finn says, but he takes the box anyway and just sort of holds onto it, like maybe he’s afraid to open it.

He and Carole have been like this since she walked into the kitchen and wished them a merry Christmas; strangely polite, almost as though they’ve just met. Kurt understands why, of course. He went through this with his father back in high school, and it wasn’t even a surprise when Kurt told him he was gay. But it’s still weird to watch them tiptoe around each other when normally Finn would be tearing into the wrapping paper without a second thought.

“This one’s for...Noah,” Carole says, and when Puck raises an eyebrow and glances over at him, Kurt shrugs.

“It’s nothing,” he says, which is sort of true, but at least it gives Puck something to open in front of his parents. Not that they don’t all _know_ he and Puck spent two full days in a hotel room doing things none of them ever wants to hear about, but they don’t need to know that those two days were mainly just a chance for Puck to demonstrate the convenience of his gift to Kurt.

And it really _is_ convenient, especially on mornings just like this one, when he doesn’t want to wait for someone to get out of bed and figure out where the condoms landed the last time they needed one. He likes being able to grip Puck’s arm and kiss him hard and tell him _now_ and not get much more than a token argument. He feels his cheeks go pink and hopes his family will assume it’s because Puck gave him an engagement ring for Christmas, and -- as far as they know, anyway -- all he got Puck was a sweater.

“It’s a silk blend,” Kurt says when Puck pulls the sweater out of the box. “So it won’t be too hot in L.A.”

“Did you steal it?”

“No,” Kurt answers, but he can feel himself blushing, and when Puck laughs he knows his face is red. "I appropriated it from the sample room. That’s not stealing.”

“Close enough for me.” Puck beams at him like Kurt just handed him the keys to a Ferrari instead of a last season Kenneth Cole sweater, then he leans in and presses a hard kiss against Kurt’s mouth. “It’s awesome. Thanks, babe.”

He stands up, and for a second Kurt thinks he’s going to pull his shirt off right there in the living room. Before he can protest Puck picks up the sweater and heads for the bathroom, and Kurt looks up to find his whole family watching him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Burt says. “You didn’t steal all our presents, did you?”

“It’s not stealing. It’s one of the perks of the job they don’t pay me a dime for,” Kurt insists, rolling his eyes when Finn laughs.

“Seriously, dude, he got you a ring and you gave him a sweater?”

“Should I ask what you gave Will for Christmas this year?” Kurt asks, and when Finn blushes and looks away Kurt grins.

“It’s a very nice sweater, honey,” Carole says, voice tight and Kurt remembers too late that she’s probably not ready for jokes about her son’s sex life just yet.

Kurt blushes an even deeper shade of red and doesn’t look at Finn. Instead he glances toward the hallway in the hope that Puck will reappear. He does, a moment later, carrying the shirt he put on after his shower and wearing the sweater Kurt didn’t steal for him. Just as Kurt expects, the sweater fits like it was made for him, showing off the broadness of his shoulders and skimming his abs to stop at just the right spot on his hips.

Kurt stands up and takes a few steps forward, reaching out when Puck stops in front of him to smooth his hands along Puck’s shoulders and down his sides. He adjusts the fit a little before he steps back to survey Puck from up close. “I knew it would look perfect on you.”

Puck grins and _swaggers_ forward, then a hand lands on Kurt’s hip and Kurt lets Puck pull him forward to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Do you know how many tips this thing is going to make me?” Puck murmurs against his skin. “We’ll be able to afford the honeymoon suite.”

Kurt smothers the surge of jealousy at the idea of random strangers ogling Puck. He's never wanted to be that person, for one thing. And fine, okay, they both know perfectly well that sometimes he _is_ that person -- in his defense, sometimes Puck is too -- but he's not about to bring it up when Puck's kissing his cheek and whispering plans for the honeymoon he’s apparently had planned out for awhile now.

He’s still grinning at Puck like a moron when he hears Carole gasp, and Kurt looks over Puck’s shoulder in time to watch her launch herself at his dad. “Oh, honey! It’s perfect.”

“It’s all set up already,” Burt says, patting Carole on the back and that’s when Kurt spots the camera in her hand. “I got the guy at the store to do it so it would be ready to go as soon as you opened it.”

“Always so thoughtful,” Carole practically gushes, planting a kiss on Burt that sends him rocking back in his chair a little. Then she lets go of him and turns the camera on them, and seriously, Kurt’s never been so relieved that he had the foresight to take a shower and do something with his hair, because Carole’s already figured out how to turn the thing on.

“Say cheese,” she chirps from behind the camera, and Kurt’s about to roll his eyes and insist on a little _warning_ , at least, when Puck’s arms slide around his waist and his lips brush Kurt’s cheek again. He’s distantly aware of the camera’s flash going off, then Puck’s voice is whispering in his ear again.

“You know, we don’t have any pictures of us together, babe. We might need some for the website.”

“Website?” Kurt says as the camera goes off again, but Kurt’s too busy frowning at Puck to worry about who it’s pointed at now.

“My sister said something about a website for the wedding. I figured you’d know what she was talking about.”

And he does, because he’s been through this before with Carole, and he’s read enough bridal magazines to know that websites are the ideal way to disseminate information about gift registries and rehearsal dinners. But he hasn’t thought about it in the context of _their_ wedding, and he’s not sure how everyone he knows got at least two steps ahead of him when it comes to planning his wedding, but he’s going to have to regain control if he doesn’t want a complete disaster on his hands.

“Oh, hey, that reminds me,” Puck’s saying. His arms are still around Kurt’s waist, Kurt’s hands resting on his chest and he’s pretty sure Carole’s taking more pictures, but he knows it won’t do any good to try and stop her. “My sister friended you on Facebook. You better friend her back before she gets here or she’s just going to be a total bitch all day, and my mom’s already got dibs on ruining Christmas.”

Puck kisses him again, on the mouth this time, then he lets go of Kurt and takes his seat on the couch again. For a second Kurt just stares at him, wondering whether or not it’s worth it to ask _why_ Puck’s sister friended him on Facebook. Finally Kurt decides he doesn’t want to know, at least not until he doesn’t have a choice. He sits down next to Puck again, watching Carole snap a picture of a confused-looking Finn as he finally opens the box he’s been holding since before Puck went to change. “Is this...?”

“It was Burt’s idea,” Carole says, but she looks excited about whatever’s in the envelope Finn pulls out of the brightly wrapped box.

Burt shrugs and reaches over to pat Finn on the shoulder. “You’ve been working pretty hard lately; figured you could use a break from all the school stuff.”

“Thanks, guys,” Finn says, and when he pulls the contents of the envelope free Kurt can see that they’re tickets. “Will’s going to flip.”

Finn pauses and looks up, his smile disappearing when he looks at Carole, then Burt. “I mean...unless you wanted to go, Burt. Because that would be totally cool, I mean it’s the season opener, and I know you’re a big Indians fan.”

“They’re your tickets, son,” Burt says, cutting him off before he actually hurts himself trying to take it back, and thank God for that. Kurt’s watching his father’s face for a sign that he’s hurt, but if Burt’s disappointed that Finn would rather take his boyfriend to the Indians season opener, he’s hiding it well.

Carole’s face tells a different story, but when she glances over and catches Kurt looking she swallows and pastes on a bright smile. “Let’s see, there’s one for Burt here, and Santa left something for Kurt too, I’m sure.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the mention of Santa, but he takes the box she hands him anyway. She smiles at him again, genuine this time, then she turns back to the tree to hand out more gifts. It’s still a little strange, sitting in his living room with Burt and Carole and Finn and now Puck, watching Carole unwrap a Donna Karan cashmere sweater that Kurt did _not_ steal and knowing that the next time they’re all together like this, it will be because he’s getting married.

Kurt’s heart skips a beat and he glances to his left to find Puck watching him. He smiles and reaches out to close his fingers around Puck’s hand, and he knows Puck can’t actually read his mind or anything, but his thumb traces Kurt’s ring anyway, and Kurt wonders idly if he’s ever going to look at Puck without feeling his heart race. Maybe not, and given the history of heart problems in his family, he should probably be a little worried, but he knows better than anyone that Puck’s worth the risk.

~

It’s nearly 11:00 by the time they finish unwrapping gifts. Kurt manages to get out of clean-up duty mainly by virtue of having made breakfast, but he has a feeling that even if he hadn't cooked, Finn still would have volunteered to clear up the wrapping paper and bows and boxes in yet another misguided attempt to curry favor with his mother.

Doing extra chores isn’t going to help Carole get comfortable with the idea of all the things Finn’s letting Will Schuester do to him these days. What she needs is time, and possibly a prescription for Valium. But Kurt doesn’t bother telling Finn that, because if Finn’s cleaning up then Kurt can use his computer without having to assure Finn that he won’t go through the history to see what type of gay porn Finn prefers.

As though Kurt even _wants_ to know that about his brother.

He rolls his eyes and opens a web browser, then he clicks on the link for Facebook and logs Finn out of his account. He logs into his own account and clicks on the notifications, replying ‘yes’ to Sarah Puckerman’s friend request. He squints at her profile picture, an image of a smiling teenager with long, curly hair and the same dark eyes as her brother.

“At least our wedding pictures will be gorgeous,” Kurt says to no one in particular, then he smiles to himself and closes the little box that tells him he’s now friends with Sarah. He’s about to log out of his account again when he spots another notification, this one asking him to verify that he’s indeed engaged to Noah Puckerman.

Kurt’s heart skips another beat at the sight of the words in black and white, right there on his -- well, Finn’s -- computer screen. And it’s ridiculous, because he doesn’t even _like_ Facebook, but there’s something about knowing that all their high school friends and everyone in L.A. who’s friended either of them is going to know that they’re officially engaged that makes it seem...more real somehow. Which he didn’t think was possible, frankly, not after the two days they spent destroying a room in the same hotel where William McKinley High School holds its senior prom every year.

Apparently he was wrong, though, because as soon as he verifies that yes, indeed, he is planning to marry Noah Puckerman, he has to go to his own Facebook profile and stare at his newly updated status for a moment. He’s still reading the words over and over: _Kurt Hummel is engaged to Noah Puckerman_ when he hears footsteps on the stairs, and Kurt tears his gaze away from the screen to watch Puck crossing the room.

“When did you update your Facebook status?”

“Yesterday," Puck says, grinning and leaning in to look at Kurt’s profile. “I borrowed my sister’s computer. Here, move over a second.”

Puck pushes at his shoulder until Kurt moves over on the chair to make room for him, and he’s still slender for his height, certainly, but Puck isn’t, and they’re really too big to be sharing furniture. It’s not what anyone would describe as comfortable, but Puck parks on the edge of the wooden desk chair anyway, arm sliding around Kurt’s shoulder to reach around him for the mouse.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asks when Puck clicks on his list of friends and pulls up Carole’s profile.

“I just finished uploading all Mrs. H’s pictures from her fancy new camera,” Puck answers, and Kurt must look as nervous as he feels, because Puck laughs and brushes a kiss against his cheek. “Relax, babe, I deleted the ones where you didn’t look totally hot.”

Kurt’s fairly sure his own standards for what constitutes an acceptable picture of him are much higher than Puck’s, but he doesn’t argue when Puck scrolls through the images until he finds the one he’s looking for. It’s a picture of the two of them, taken just after Puck reappeared in his new sweater. And he can say without a doubt that he definitely does not look hot, but he doesn’t look awful, either.

It’s not the first picture Carole took, the one where Kurt’s staring right at the camera and probably looking like he’s about to roll his eyes. He doesn’t remember Carole taking this one at all, but he’s fairly sure that’s because Puck’s arms are around his waist in the shot and he’s leaning in to press his lips to Kurt’s cheek. Kurt’s face is turned toward Puck, just a little, and Kurt has to admit it’s not the worst picture of him he’s ever seen.

The reason he’s used his headshot as his Facebook profile picture for so long is because he paid a lot of money for it, and if he’s not going to be a famous actor, he’s going to get his money’s worth one way or the other. But seeing a picture of them together for the first time launches a flurry of butterflies he hasn’t felt in a long time, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t object when Puck tags both of them and then sets it as Kurt’s new profile picture.

“We look good together,” Puck says, voice low in Kurt’s ear and his arm’s still around Kurt, holding him on the edge of the chair. Kurt leans into Puck’s side until they’re pressed even closer together, head on Puck’s shoulder while he looks at the picture on the computer screen.

“You know, we really do.”


End file.
